Burgundy with Blue feathers
by sallyboy
Summary: Tag to We Are The Garrison, as requested.


'…those are a captain's responsibilities.' She'd understood, better than anyone, the inevitability of this. She'd lived through the changes in Paris, the hardship the war had wrought on the capital, and on the common people who lived within its walls. She'd seen and lived with the changes war had had on her husband and the 3 men he held most dear. That SHE held most dear. She was at a point where nothing surprised her anymore. Certainly not this, which had been a long time coming. So long that he'd completely failed to read the signs for himself. Either that, or he had deployed the soldier's coping mechanism of simply ignoring that which he could not control, reckoning it to be Athos' problem and therefore something he would learn about as and when he needed to. Clearly, bringing Paris back from the brink had taken up more of his not inconsiderable skills, more than he himself had really noticed, which had made it easier, she supposed, to do this unnoticed. He was scrupulous in allowing her privacy and freedom, he never questioned her comings and goings – a gentle and loving part of him the war had failed to harden. Rebuilding meant she was all over the city and she could truthfully say she was on Musketeer business and skim over things. Especially when they were both tired and she lay with her head on his chest as they talked about their day and eventually talked themselves to sleep.

She had his measurements, as did the tailor who had made the new uniforms they'd ordered when they were officially recalled to the city. The tailor also had a brother-in-law, a tanney, who had begun work on a captain's leather breastplate. He'd made it to match the uniform and had agreed to keep it in his workshop until it was sent for. He was making it carefully and she checked in on the craftsman from time to time, when she was out in the city with extra time on her hands. She approved of the design. He hadn't needed to have him present to fit the piece, which was good for maintaining the secrecy, but in reality meant that maintaining law and order on the streets of Paris was proving more difficult than it had once been. It was taking time for all of them to adjust to the changes in the capital. She enjoyed besting him when she could, but she would have given anything for it to be harder, because that would mean Paris was safer and he could enjoy her ruse. For now, seeing to the leatherwork would have to do. She would enjoy seeing the pleasure on his face, seeing him smile – he hadn't done much of that recently and she would do anything to see it more often.

Athos had given her an additional item to commission, as well. She'd been against it, then sceptical, before arriving at 'grudging admission' and agreeing that it WAS necessary for him to have one. She'd been very cross with Athos when he'd given her the deadline, because it made his leaving real and it felt so SOON. She'd known since before the fire that he was not a captain to stay in the Garrison, and she'd realised around the same time he would not return to the war. She allowed these thoughts some playtime before calling them to order, reasoning there would never be a time that felt right for this announcement. It would be one of those things where it was a matter of picking the least worst moment. Although, since everything after the events around Grimaud's death was an improvement, Athos had been able to orchestrate a suitable occasion. The new captain took it well, but there was still one more surprise for him and it had been given to her to arrange.

It was a deep burgundy, matching the tones of his armour and doublet, with blue feathers in the hat band forming a fleur-de-lys at the edge of the upturned brim. She set it on handle of the pistol, with the message Athos had entrusted to her carefully tucked inside. It was his first official public duty as Captain, so he had taken his time with his breastplate and she'd made the excuse of wanting to supervise the readying of his horse, scurrying out carrying something in her skirts. She heard his boots crunching as he walked out, stepping back as he smiled and reached for the hat, removing the note and huffing a little. He smoothed his hair, put it on and turned to see her smirk become a grin. He threw back his head, laughing and realising she'd known more about this than he had. His beautiful, smart, clever Constance had once again surprised and delighted him. He replaced the hat on the saddle and turned to his wife. He gathered her in his arms, kissing her, trying to put all his love into the kiss, all his appreciation for the work she was doing alongside him. He loved having her there, beside him in everything they did. He silently vowed he would do his best to make sure that never changed.


End file.
